What Have I Done
by LostandAlone22
Summary: Dean loses control of his anger in Bobby's junkyard, and Sam pays the price
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: None of the things that you recognize belong to me. I'm simply borrowing them and they will be returned with no...with only a little damage.

I got this idea after watching Dean smash the Impala in "ELaC" and then Dean hitting Sam in "Bloodlust." I thought, what if out in the junkyard, Dean had laid into Sammy instead of the car. Hope you like this chapter. It is going to be a multi-chapter story. I'm, of course, still working on "Price of Fear" (because it's my pet project right now) and I'm bringing together my next chapter of "Oglethorpe House."

Hope you enjoy the first chapter.

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It came out of him like a burst, unexpected and horrifying. Once it started, though, he couldn't find the strength to stop. The first blow had made Sam falter, the second made him fall, and all the other ones made him cry. He never hit back to defend himself, never made a move after the attempt to shield his face. Dean remembered the anger building, remembered his brother asking for the hundredth time, if he would talk to him; and something snapped. He would later remember only the first underhanded punch that had made Sam's head snap back, the sound of bone against bone. Everything else became a blur of emotions.

Dean had moved past Sam's hands effectively, straddled across his brother's body and continuing to land blows. Skin against skin, bruises forming and blood springing forth from his nose and mouth. He had given up fighting, given up the idea that he would be able to fight. He just lay limply on the ground, crying.

It wasn't his brother; couldn't be. It was a shapeshifter, or maybe he was possessed. He knew he should be fighting, shouldn't give in this easily, because Dean would regret it later, but he just couldn't. His brother was out of control.

The ground vibrated below Sam as heavy feet ran across the dirt to where the boys fought. Strong arms wrapped around Dean, restraining him, holding down his arms, and dragging him away from his brother. Another man dropped down next to the younger brother, gently checking him over. Sam flinched, drew away from the hands, and the hands backed off.

"I just want to make sure you're all right, Sammy."

Sam calmed, let the man run gentle hands over broken skin. The hands searched for broken bones, assessing his level of consciousness. A light shown in Sam's eyes, and he shied away again. "It's okay," the voice was back, comforting him. After making sure that the younger man would be okay, the man glanced at Bobby and nodded.

Bobby held onto Dean tightly, anxious eyes looking down at Sam, scanning Caleb's reaction to his condition. When he looked up, Bobby got close to Dean's ear and said in a low and dangerous tone of voice, "Are you calm now?"

Dean nodded and shook himself free of the older man, looking for the first time at the damage he had done to his brother. Horror and panic raced through him, filling him with dread and stealing his breath. '_Oh, god, what have I done?_' His feet were moving of their own volition, trying to get to the boy he had spent his whole life protecting. Bobby grabbed him again and tried to hold him back. "Let me go!" He growled. At the sound, Sam shook, drawing back even further. Dean's heart clenched, knowing he had caused this. '_Oh, god, what have I done?_'

"No, Dean. Give him some time. Let's go talk." Bobby reasoned, knowing that some of the trust Sam had for his brother had been lost.

"Sammy...I'm so sorry." Dean pleaded, moving closer.

Sam shook, backing up despite his own injuries, lost in his fear, and got as far as the side of the Impala. Dean stopped, put his hands up and moved away. His brother was hurting– bad– and he couldn't stop it, not this time. He glanced back at Bobby, at the tire iron that the man held in his hand, waiting to protect the one person Dean should have been protecting, and he nodded. Quietly, he followed him as Caleb rushed back to Sammy. He was shaking harder now, rocking himself in an attempt to get away. Dean noticed this, and thought about all the damage he had caused.

"Sammy? Sammy, look at me." Caleb implored, softly, in an attempt to stop the rocking that was causing further aggravation to his concussion. He reached out to cup Sam's face in his hand and made him look at him. When Sam's face was brought up, cold, vacant eyes stared back, not focusing on anything. "Oh, God," Caleb said, grabbing and shaking the younger man. He was completely out of it.

Dean heard the quiet curse, and turned around, glancing back at his brother. "What's wrong, Caleb?" Dean demanded, and the other man shook his head, dismissing him.

"Bobby, bring him in the house, and then come back and help me with Sam." Caleb said quietly, calmly, not looking at Dean at all.

"No! You tell me what's wrong with my brother," Dean roared, trying to get back to his side. He was ignored, as Bobby tightened his grip and started to drag him back to the house and Caleb turned back to Sam.

'_Oh, God, what have I done?'_

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_Feel free to comment any way that you would like, whether it be constructive criticism, praise, or a question._

_Happy Hunting!_


	2. Pulled From the Wreckage

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.

Sorry that it's been so long since I last updated. It took way longer than I thought to update, but I promise that I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner. I should have it in the next few days, or a week at the most.

Hope you enjoy the chapter.

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Caleb gently tried to coax Sam out of the shell that he had gone into, tried to bring life back into the hazel orbs. Sam hadn't moved on his own, hadn't said a word or even protested when Caleb had looked over the head injury again. Not a word, not a sound. "Come on, man. Don't do this." He said quietly to his young friend. Sam, it seemed, had gone into his own world, where he wouldn't be damaged by his own flesh and blood anymore.

He had sat there, holding the boy and making sure that he was safe, for five minutes when he finally heard the sound of Bobby returning. "What's wrong with him?" Bobby asked the second he came back.

"I don't know. It's like he's not here anymore. Dean didn't do too much damage. He has a concussion. You can tell that just by looking in his eyes when I shine the light on them, but it doesn't seem like it should be that bad. There's no bones broken in his face. His hands suffered the worst of the bone damage when he tried to defend himself, but his skull is fine. This is just...scary. He's just checked out. I don't understand it. It could be post-traumatic stress, but he's been hurt worse than this; they both have." Caleb explained, at a loss of words as to what was really going on.

"Not by his own blood, he ain't. First, his daddy dies and then his big brother up and pulls this. He's **gonna** be damaged. Let me look at him." Bobby moved in next to John's boy and tried to touch his shoulder. It was the first movement that he had made in a long time, when he pulled away from the hands, jerkily, as if in fear that they would hurt him, too. "Sammy, it's just me. It's just Bobby. You're safe."

His eyes were still blank and devoid of life and it didn't appear that he had heard a word that either of the men had just spoken. His legs were still drawn up in defense of the tender organs in his mid-section. The two men were at a loss as to what to do for him, and he was out of resources from his family.

"Do you think we should take him to the hospital?" Caleb asked, raspy voice shaky, uncertain. He had watched Sam grow up, watched him through his inquisitive childhood when he had gotten into everything, watched him fight with his old man when he was a teenager and rebel against all the things that had encompassed his life, seen him grow into a well-rounded young man who took life by the horns, and yet he had never seen him like this. No injury had caused the kind of destruction that he was suffering right now.

"Well, yeah." Bobby said, indignantly, as if he had just been asked the most mundane question in the world. This was not something they could handle on their own. Caleb moved so that Bobby could come closer in front of Sammy. "You know you're safe. No one's gonna hurt you anymore, son." Bobby said, keeping his voice gentler than he had ever spoken before to the boy. He wasn't dealing with a fully functional adult right now, but a scared and wounded animal, and he needed to be treated as such. They just needed to get him to a professional before they could cause any more harm than had already been done.

Caleb crowded in on the side of the boy, and his eyes were wide, fearful of the men. "It's okay, Sam. We're not gonna hurt you," Caleb reassured him. He held one hand on Sam's knee for a moment, showing him that even though they were touching him, they were doing no harm. It took a moment to get him comfortable, get him to relax to the touch, and then Caleb picked him up. Placing one hand behind his knees, and the other around his back, Caleb lifted him up. He carried him, cradled against his chest, head resting against his shoulder, as they went to Caleb's car. The man yelled at Bobby to get into the backseat, and the older hunter ran around the car and got in. Caleb gently moved Sammy into the car, being careful with him, and sat him next to Bobby. Then, he ran to the trunk and got a blanket out, going back to drape it around his young friend. He owed John Winchester the very air he was breathing, and he would be damned if he let the man's sons down now. Getting into the driver's seat, he shot a glance back to the boy leaning heavily against Bobby, shivering. He started the car and gunned the engine, trying to get to help as quickly as possible.

They sat now, waiting to hear anything on Sammy. When they brought him here, he wasn't responding to anything around him, and he was limp in Bobby's arms, head lulled slightly to the side. The doctors had taken one look at the fragile bundle in his arms, and whisked him away, commanding the two men to stay away, to wait in the waiting room with all of the other worried families. Bobby had gone to the coffee machine twice in the hour wait, trying to work off his energy and tension with the trips. Caleb sat hunched over in his chair, hands folded and up against his mouth, fear making him almost frozen. When Sammy was little, they'd all brought him to the hospital, and he had the same fear then as he did now. The baby's life was in danger then, but now it was his soul.

"You all right?" Bobby said quietly, discreetly from all the other people around the younger hunter and sat down in the seat next to Caleb.

"Their dad saved my life, Bobby. If he hadn't have called 911 when he did, I would be dead." Absently, he rubbed at the scar tissue that was forming on his throat. A couple weeks ago, it had been ugly, broken open and he could barely speak. That bitch had damaged his vocal chords, and he would speak with a rasp for the rest of his life, but he was alive because of John Winchester. And now, he couldn't even return the favor by making sure that his son's were all right. Glancing at Bobby, he asked flatly, "Did you call Dean, tell him what's going on?"

"Yeah, that boy wanted to come here, like that would do anyone any good right now, but he's not going to be able to...the Impala isn't going to take him anywhere, and they left the only other running vehicle I had somewhere out in the bushes in Wisconsin." Bobby said, a scoff in his voice as he remembered getting the call that he needed to go pick up the van from Wisconsin. "That only leaves my truck, and he ain't gonna touch that."

"Dean will find a way." Caleb said, voice ominous. While he needed to make sure they were both safe, there was no way Sammy would be able to handle seeing him right now. He needed a couple of days, and even then, Dean would need to take it slow, earn back the trust that he had lost.

"That's what I'm afraid of." Bobby confided, a gentle nod of his head as he brought the coffee cup up to his mouth. "He just better not touch **my** truck."

Caleb snorted, and shook his head. "Was he still angry?"

"No. He sounded frantic. He saw us bring Sammy to your car." Bobby informed him, and Caleb once again nodded. This was going to be bad.

Sam was half aware of what was going on around him, but was numb. He had a CT and an MRI and he knew they were going to do x-rays of his skull, but he didn't feel any of it. He was detached and his vision was hazy enough for him not to pick up on much. He just couldn't move, and he felt like he was trapped inside of his body. He heard them say words like catatonia and head injury. He heard them say temporary blindness as they shined the light into his eyes. He just didn't have the energy to respond to it. They didn't mean anything, and the only other thing that really did was sitting back at Bobby's house, and obviously hadn't followed them to the hospital. He didn't remember what had happened out in the junkyard, past when Dean had started laying punches. There's a murky memory of his brother being calmed, Bobby holding him back, and then he tried to come back toward him, and he felt himself move back. Sometime in the next few seconds, he had lost consciousness, lost himself. It was the head injury, had to be. He had woken up in the emergency room, and no one said anything to him, because other than having his eyes open, he wasn't awake or aware too much. There was only the wish that Dean was here.

Dean was pacing the floor for over an hour, when he started pulling the drawers open in Bobby's office, looking for keys. The house was located on a junkyard, after all, so it couldn't be too hard to find a car that at least ran half-way. He had watched Caleb carry Sam's body, clutched up against his chest, and felt a pang in his heart. His brother was laying so still against their friend's chest, and it reminded him of when they were little kids, when his father would rock a sick Sammy to get him to be calm. It broke his heart, but he didn't feel like having either of the older men threaten him for coming near the only person he had left. Remorse and guilt had taken over him only minutes after he had first hit Sam, and god, he wanted to take it back. More than anything; more than even their father's death. Sam had lost his dad, too, and this was too much. Why was Sammy so still? Why was Sammy refusing to move when he was placed in the car, laid down in the backseat?

Bobby had called a while ago, to tell him that the doctors had taken him into triage, and they didn't know anything yet. Dean was teary, and apologized to the man.

"It's not me you need to be apologizing to, Dean. Look, I know you got angry, but you need to reign that in a little. He's the only one you've got left, and making him fear you ain't the way to vent your anger." Bobby had said to him.

"I know," was the only thing that he could come back with, and boy did he ever know.

Fervently, Dean started throwing the drawers out, looking for the key box. He knew Bobby kept them somewhere, and he would rip apart the whole room in order to find transportation to the hospital. When they were outside, he hadn't been looking at anything. _'Oh, god, what if he's blind_?' All it takes is one wrong punch, and he wasn't exactly being careful not to hurt him.

The thought made him desperate, made him think about Bobby's truck that the man had left there. He had left his keys sitting on the top of the desk, and it would be so easy to borrow them. Grabbing them off the desk, he ran out to the truck. He was going to see his baby brother, and try to make things right.

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please feel free to comment any way that you would like, whether it be constructive criticism, praise, or a question.

Happy hunting!


	3. Pulled Down by the Undertow

Diclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or the show.

I've had this for a few days now, and just haven't been able to post it. I read at the end of Raven524's chapter that she was able to post using Notepad, so that's why you're seeing this now. However, I'm not sure what formatting is going to do, so if there's a problem, I apologize. Thanks for understanding. Also, if the site is ever having a problem, I always post the chapters/stories, to my LiveJournal, which is www.lostandalone22. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

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Dean slammed the door to Bobby's truck, just barely remembering to snag the keys out of the ignition first. He swiftly walked toward the building, and steeled himself, knowing that he wasn't going to have a warm greeting.

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Time seemed to go by slowly, taking him with it. He had been here for hours, listening to the sounds around him as a soft buzzing, not making out what they were saying. He needed his brother, needed to apologize for whatever had made him lash out. He had slept, after the doctor had set up his IV port, and he was thinking a little clearer now. Clear enough to realize that his vision was a problem, and it wasn't just the shock. He still couldn't see anything but shadows and that worried him. The pain radiating from his broken wrist also was a worrying factor, and he held it close to him to avoid further damage. They hadn't given him a cast yet, and he wanted them to tell him why. He wanted Dean. Dean would make things better, make them right, but he didn't come with them, and he wasn't here now.

He knew that the doctor was in the room with him now, could feel the warmth off the light that she had shown in his eyes, but not too much of the actual light. Her hand touched him, and he flinched back, not wanting anyone to touch him right now. He couldn't breath for a moment.

She was talking to him, and although he heard the sound, he couldn't make out any actual words. "Did anyone stay?" He asked quietly and a little panicky, thinking they left him. He decided to let the doctor know that he was awake, preferring that to the alternative of not knowing whether he'd been left alone.

The doctor smiled down gently at him. "Yes. Your uncles are here. Do you want me to go get them for you?" She was enthusiastic that he was speaking. He nodded his head and looked straight ahead again. She sighed and walked out of the door to go get the other men.

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Dean walked through the doors and to the front desk, eyeing the two men on the other side of the room. They hadn't looked up yet, and he didn't want them to. Keeping one eye on them, he spoke to the receptionist. "Hi, I think my brother was brought in here. His name's Sam Winchester. Can you tell me anything?" He did his best to keep his voice calm and charming, while quiet at the same time.

The woman looked through her computer for a moment and then said "Sam Winchester is in trauma room 12. Did you want to speak with his doctor?"

"Yeah, that would be good." He nodded vigorously, giving the woman his most winning smile.

"He doesn't get any information." Bobby's strong, authoritative voice came from behind him. Apparently, the woman had spoken too loudly.

"Bobby, I need to see him." He turned around, ready to argue. The woman gave Bobby a look from behind Dean, wondering if she should call security. These men had been here the whole time, waiting for some news, and this newcomer didn't seem too welcome.

"I'll deal with him." Bobby said, nodding to the woman. "Dean, you can't be here."

"He's my family." Dean protested.

"And right now, you can't be here." Bobby repeated. "How did you even get here?"

"I borrowed your truck." Dean said, keeping his voice steady and his resolve firm. He needed to be here. There had never been a time in his brother's life that he hadn't been there for him.

Bobby seemed to be reigning in his anger. He was about to speak when the doctor came out into the waiting room. Forgetting about Dean, Bobby walked over to her. "How is he?"

"He's more alert than he was before. One of you can go and sit with him." She told them, eyeing the man who had just came in.

Dean moved to go through the doors that the woman had just came from. "I'm going to see him." He declared.

Bobby moved in front of him, blocking his way. "Dean, you can't go in there right now " He growled protectively.

"He's my brother " Dean growled back, feeling his earlier bout of anger welling up.

"Yeah? You think security will side with you once they find out what you did, why that boy is laying in there so busted up?" Bobby threatened softly, making sure that no one actually overheard him. He wasn't completely heartless, and eventually, once things had a chance to calm down, Sammy would need Dean. And Dean would be allowed to try to make amends.

Dean crowded close to Bobby, invading his personal space, offering up a physical threat to the implied threat that Bobby had issued. "Let me see my brother."

"No." The older man held firm, stressing his point. Caleb came between the two men, holding them apart.

"Bobby, go check on Sam. I'm going to talk to Dean for a minute." Caleb instructed, not taking his eyes off of the younger man. When he was sure that Bobby was gone, he started talking. "Give it some time, Dean. Leave things alone for now. You don't want to do this."

"Look, I'm sorry that I hit him earlier, but he's my bro–" Dean started to protest, but wasn't given the chance to finish.

"It doesn't matter. Right now, you're still worked up too much, and he's not in a position to protect himself. Don't you understand that?" Caleb was trying to get Dean to see the truth, see what was happening, without having to reveal too much of his own soul.

"He's my family. I...love him." It had taken a lot for Dean to actually say it out loud, but he thought that would make his friend understand, so he said it.

"You think that matters? You see this–" The man rolled up his sleeve and pointed to a few round scars on his arms. "This is what my father did. He loved my sister and me a lot. He just got angry, and hurt us. He used to burn my arms with his cigars. It doesn't matter, Dean. You got so worked up earlier, that you beat your brother. It wasn't just a 'hit.' You beat him. He didn't know what was going on around him at all the whole ride here or when they took him back there. What's to stop you from doing that again?"

Dean was quiet, had a sick feeling come over him. He had hurt his brother. "Caleb...how bad was it? Did they...Caleb, I need to see him." He felt weak, his brother was hurt bad, and they weren't allowing him back to see him.

"Dean– no. Right now, you need to go back to Bobby's, get yourself calmed down and ready to deal with him, and then you can come back. I don't want to see you hurt him again. He's not doing good right now, and you're not going to make things better. Just, for now, for him, go home." Caleb tried to reason, keeping his voice calmed, ready for the fight that was coming.

"Caleb, I have to see him. Please, I'm sorry, and I'll apologize to him. I want to make things right." Dean felt the tears threatening to fall. Sammy wasn't doing good, and he wasn't there for him. It killed in ways that he couldn't even have imagined being killed.

"Dean, I can't let you. Besides, you've seen Bobby angry. I don't want to be at the wrong end of his rifle, if you know what I mean. He did threaten to shoot your old man." He was trying to add some humor to the conversation, take the urgency out of it, and make Dean comfortable before he sent him on his way.

"I don't care, Caleb. I want to see him, make sure that he's okay." Dean pleaded, the tears now sitting in his eyes.

"All that you're going to see is fear, Dean. He's being jumpy around Bobby and me; what do think he's going to do when he sees you? I know it's hard, but right now, you are the reason for his trauma. You are the one that he's afraid of, and you being here, isn't going to make things better for his recovery. You want the rundown? You want to know exactly what's wrong with him?"

Dean nodded, the knot in his stomach making it impossible for him to speak. "He's in post-traumatic shock. They don't think that he's catatonic, because he responds to movement and touch, but he's close to it, Dean. They did a light test on his eyes, and he didn't respond. He could get better, could heal, but right now, he's blind." Dean looked down, away from Caleb, and at the floor. Blind? He couldn't hunt if he couldn't see. Hell, he couldn't protect himself, if he couldn't see. "Dean?"

Dean cleared his throat, and said huskily, "Keep going."

"He's got a concussion. It's not a bad one, because he tried to defend himself with his hands. But, his right hand is damaged. Right now, he has a soft cast on it, because they need to bring him to surgery. Some of the bones are broken, and there's tendon damage. He's going to need a cast for at least six weeks. Do you understand just how bad this is, Dean? You didn't hit him with anything, but because of your brute force, he's hurt bad." Caleb tried to be as gentle as possible, but Dean was still so upset.

Dean sank down to his knees on the floor, not able to fight the tears anymore. The guilt was eating him alive, and knowing just how bad this was killed him. His breath was coming in harsh gasps, because he couldn't breathe through the tears. "Ohmigod, Caleb. Ohmigod. I'm so sorry. Please, please, you've gotta let me see him. You've gotta let me make things right. Ohmigod, Sammy "

Caleb knelt down next to the broken man, and wrapped his arms around him. "It's okay, Dean." He whispered, knowing that he had been too blunt, caused damages. Dean just sobbed as Caleb held him, gently rocking.

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Bobby walked down the hallway, inadvertently glancing into the other emergency rooms. When the doctor stopped in front of Sam's room, she turned around to speak with the gruff man. "You have to be really careful with him right now. Whoever hurt him, really did a good job. I'm letting you go in there, because I know he needs a friend right now. If you have any problems, just call out to the main desk here. Someone will be right there to help."

"Thank you, ma'am," Bobby said, nodding his head and then went into the room. He walked very slowly and very quietly, not wanting to disturb the balance in the air. Sammy was laying on his left side, his broken hand wrapped up and held protectively against his chest. His eyes were wide open, but he wasn't seeing anything. When Bobby came up next to the bed, and placed his hand on the side of the youngster's head, Sam jumped a little and then relaxed. "I know you can hear me, son. You're going to be just fine. Your brother's here, but I sent him home."

"Why?" It was the first word spoken by the broken young man to him since the beating. It was quiet, wrought with exhaustion, but it was there, audible.

"Didn't think you'd want to see him, after what happened." Bobby replied, not missing a beat.

"I need him. Something else did this; it wasn't him. He was...possessed maybe, but I need my brother." His voice was broken, too soft, and for a moment Bobby didn't react. There was a part of his mind, the part that looked at the IV in Sam's hand and the blank look in his eyes, that wanted the son of a bitch to suffer, but he couldn't deny Sam anything.

"It wasn't anything else, Sammy. It was your brother." He told him, carefully, not wanting him to dig himself further into his shell because he was in denial.  
"Not my brother– please, Bobby, go get him." Sam's voice was quiet, breathless, and the older man couldn't bear to see it.

"Okay. I'll go check if he's still in the waiting room, okay, son?" Sam had gone back to his mute mode, but nodded. Bobby left the room, to go in search of the older boy, to give him a warning and let him know that he was allowed back in.

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Once again, I apologize for any formatting problems. Please feel free to leave any kind of review, whether it be constructive criticism, question, or praise.


	4. Tear Up the Darkness

Sorry that it's been so long since my last update of this story. It just took longer than expected. I had to finish school and then busyness with the holidays. But, now that all of that is out of the way for a while, I should be able to update more often. Again, sorry for the delay.

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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The sight that greeted Bobby made him stop in his tracks. Dean was sitting on the floor, allowing Caleb to hold onto him for a moment. He knew it was the healing that Dean needed, and so he slowed down a lot. Dean had lost control, because he was hurting, and he had lashed out in that pain. Hopefully, whatever Caleb had said would break through that hurt and make him see what he was doing out of hurt.

Quietly, he cleared his throat to get their attention, and they both looked up. Dean quickly scooted away from the older man, and wiped his sleeve over his eyes. He needed to appear tough, and not be coddled like a woman. That was more of Sammy's area. "What's wrong, Bobby?" he asked hesitantly, not sure if the man was still angry with him.

"Sam's asking for you." Bobby said, and watched as Dean quickly brought himself to his feet, not caring about the moment he had just shared with Caleb. "Now, wait a minute. You be gentle with him, you hear? Do not upset him, and do not hurt him in any way again. I will have security remove you." He knew that the boys needed to be together, to work things out, and those puppy eyes that Sammy could pull off so well mostly made the decision for him. He still needed to make sure that Dean knew where he stood, though, so that what had happened in the junkyard would not happen again.

"Yeah, no problem," Dean promised, voice barely audible, still not meeting Bobby' eyes. His shoulders hung low, and he shivered slightly with the horror of what he had done. Together, they went through the doors that led back to where Sam was, quietly.

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Dean was apprehensive. He saw his baby brother laying on the bed, wrapped up in blankets and staring off into space. His wrist was held closely to his body and he had chosen a protective stance. For the briefest of moments, Dean hesitated to go in there. He had hurt his brother. His brother was traumatized and injured because of something that he had done, and the guilt almost stopped him where he stood. Sam's eyes were half open, but it was clear he couldn't see anything. "Dean?" The voice was quiet, but his brother had called for him. Without a second thought, he went through the door and to his brother's side.

His feet shuffled a little as he moved, wondering how much Sammy could see, how well he was able to make out the shape of the things around him. He kept his eyes on his brother, and Sam sighed, looking directly at him.

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Sam waited, listening to the sounds around him. Everything was still a blur, but he struggled to make things clearer out of self-preservation. All he could hear was the beeping from machines, the sound of footsteps moving past and typing on the computer at the nurses station. His mind was a lot clearer now, but the pain in his wrist, which had been a quiet ache, was becoming a major problem. He felt vulnerable, stripped of the protection that he needed to fend off any kind of enemy.

Standing out from all of the other noises, he heard the one noise that was blessed to him, the slow cadence of Dean's footsteps. He made no sound, but Sam knew, like he always knew, the sound his brother made when he walked.

It was kind of a shuffling, like he was too lazy to pick up his feet, and it soothed him. He knew that after what happened, that it shouldn't. He should have been afraid. He knew his brother was responsible, even if he continued to tell people that it wasn't his fault, that his brother was possessed. In some ways, it was easier to depend on that, to make himself believe that this was the yellow-eyed demon's fault and none of their own. After all, if it wasn't for that bastard, they wouldn't be dealing with the death of their father, and Dean wouldn't have been hurting that much. He took a few deep breaths, continuing the internal struggle of whether he should be afraid or not, and then heard the footsteps stop. Dean was just standing a little bit outside of his door, probably looking at him, by the shape of the figure, and debating if he should come in or not. Making the decision for his brother, Sam spoke up "Dean?"

Dean was still shuffling his feet a little, and Sam waited patiently. His brother's hand came down by the side of his head and he flinched unconsciously. He shook himself, willing his body to stop flinching, to allow his only remaining family to care for him. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologize. You've done nothing wrong." Dean's voice was off, too soft and too teary for Sam to feel that things were okay. It frightened him some, and the fact that all he could see were shapes and that those shapes were going to hinder him if his brother decided to strike out again didn't help. Dean's body was blocking out the light, making everything dark, and he couldn't tell where anything was.

His breath started coming out in harsh gasps, and he was shaking. "Dean?" He asked, panic lacing his voice. "Please..."

"It's okay. It's okay, Sammy. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. It's okay." Dean begged, seeing the panic attack coming and trying to stop it. Pretty soon the doctors were going to come, and he would be cut off again from Sam.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Sam asked, voice high and tight in fear.

"...Sammy, what I...what do mean, what's wrong? All of this is wrong!" Dean was taken off guard by his baby brother's question. He felt himself start to tear up, and he reached out again, needing the contact. This time, Sam didn't flinch, mostly because Dean had finally moved out of the light, and he knew that the hand was coming.

"I shouldn't have..." Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

"Shh, you did nothing wrong. It'll be okay, Sammy, but I need to deal with this, with my anger, before I can be trusted again. We need to be apart for a while." Dean said, taking into account what Caleb had told him.

"No, I need you to be here. I can't take care of...I can't see anything, and I can't...defend myself right now. I need you right now, Dean, and I think something's wrong with my wrist. I can't defend myself. You need to stand guard, please! I'm sorry, but I need–" Sam was begging, voice coming too quickly and his breathing hitching once more.

"I'll be here, and Caleb and Bobby will be here." Dean quickly reassured him.

Sam nodded, dropping his own eyes. Dean shuffled his feet a little, and then looked around for a chair. A thought struck him, and he looked up at Sam. "How did you know it was me, in the hallway?"

Sam laughed softly, but it was a soft kind that never really reached his eyes. "I always know it's you." Dean nodded, accepting it as truth. He could tell when Sam was sleeping, when he was faking sleep, and when he was about to have a nightmare, so it made sense that Sam knew him just as well.

Dean gently ran his hand through the long locks of Sam's hair, and Sam closed his eyes for a second. It was several seconds, with Sam going from relaxed to clearly distressed, and Dean moved to care for him. "Sam?"

"Dean, can you go ask the doctor to give me more pain killers? My wrist, it really hurts." Sam had held the pain in for as long as he could, so that he could make amends with his brother, but now that everything was okay with him, the pain became and even bigger problem and demanded his attention.

Dean turned around to go get help, and was greeted with the sight of both Bobby and Caleb. Bobby turned and went to go find the doctor, and Caleb came to stand on the other side of Sam's bed. When he got close, Sam flinched again, and moved away. "Who is it? Who's there?" He was getting panicked again, and Dean realized the mistake. Sam couldn't see, and he may have known Dean, but Caleb was nowhere near as close to him as Dean.

"Relax. Relax, Sammy. It's just Caleb." Dean soothed, and Caleb could have kicked himself. He knew the boy was traumatized and at least partially blind and him sneaking up without announcing it probably scared the crap out of him.

"It's okay, kiddo. It's just me." Caleb said, stepping back for a minute before Sammy acknowledged him. When Sam nodded, and looked back down, Caleb came back and laid one hand gently on his arm.

"How long were you guys standing there?" Dean inquired.

"Long enough to know that you make a better chick flick than any Bette Midler movie I've seen...um, heard about. We were standing back a bit. Don't worry, whatever you told each other is still between the two of you. You're just going to have to regain some of Bobby's trust, is all." Caleb explained, even though it had been his idea to go make sure that Dean was playing nice with the younger man. He just didn't want it to get out that he cared about the boys. Jim was the only one who had seen him hold a toddler version of Sammy in his arms and cuddle him to his chest when he was sick with pneumonia as a child.

Bobby came back then, with Sam's doctor, and they were all cleared out so that he could see what the problem was, and fix Sam's pain medications.

* * *

Hope you liked the chapter. I know, it was kind of sappy, but remember what they just went through. Feel free to leave any kind of comment, whether it be constructive criticism, praise, or any questions.

Happy Hunting!


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